


Make Peace With The Stars

by Angel_Bazethiel



Series: we will build our own forever [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Dorks in Love, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, The author just wants them to be happy sksksksksksk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25840918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Bazethiel/pseuds/Angel_Bazethiel
Summary: A proposal by a king to a queen.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Series: we will build our own forever [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870018
Comments: 12
Kudos: 81





	Make Peace With The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So. While this can be read as a stand-alone, this happens on the night after part 1 (It's Winter Solstice btw, I'm not sure if I was clear abt that. You'll see. I hope?) and it follows up briefly on the convo about happiness and shit bc I am an idiot who 👏can't👏let👏it👏go. 
> 
> Inspired by Sleeping At Last's [Six](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_ikZcsTU0M).

_With a vigilant heart, I’ll push into the dark  
But I’ll learn to breathe deep and make peace with the stars_

\--

“I had the weirdest conversation with the Führer last night,” Roy says as he flips open his State Alchemist watch. He closes and opens it again.

“Oh?” Hawkeye asks. She moves to stand beside him. “You mean when he told you about his family, sir?”

Close. Open. The General does this repeatedly. The watch’s chain hangs over his fingers. He had forgone the State-issued silver one, opting for the more durable platinum he had transmuted from his mother’s ring.

“No, no. Even weirder than that. About moral responsibility and blame. About happiness.”

Close. He wraps the chain around his left hand. Roy isn’t much of a sentimental person but he keeps the only thing he has that used to be his mother’s close at all times.

The Captain hums, “Let me guess, the Führer argued with soft determinism and then hit you hard with some Aristotle.”

He smirks. “He’s been using the same arguments, hasn’t he?”

“Once or twice, sir.” Roy doesn’t have to look at her to know that she’d have that amused sparkle in her eyes. He looks anyway and finds her fiddling with one of the red carnations in the garden. She looks beautiful in her dark blue dress. It’s sleeveless and high-necked, and reflective enough that the full moon casts her an ethereal glow.

“Do you believe it?” He whispers, immediately regretting he asked. If they were younger, he wouldn’t have. They used to talk about philosophical questions under the night sky just as where they are tonight. But they’re older now, more hardened by the world. They’ve long accepted the absurd, which makes him fear her answer.

“If you _don’t_ _believe_ it, then nothing much changes,” she replies with a tilt of her head. “You would keep punishing yourself, regardless of whether the statement ‘you deserve to be happy’ is true or false. But if it _is_ true, then it means that your pain was unnecessary – _meaningless_.”

She turns to look at him. “If you believed it and it’s false, then some kind of justice – cosmic or human – would have its way and punish you anyway. But at least you were happy even if it’s just within the smallest amount of time. And if it’s true,” she shifts her eyes to the ground and shrugs, “then you’re just simply happy.”

Roy can’t help but laugh. It’s… bizarre, really. But he supposes it makes sense. In a way?

Hawkeye rolls her eyes. “It’s what my grandfather said to me when I voiced out my own doubts. He likes to think himself a pragmatist.”

“It’s a ridiculous bastardization of Pascal’s Wager,” Mustang points out, still chuckling. He unravels the chain on his hand and slips the watch in his pocket. He keeps his hand in.

“He wanted to point out that that the best choice is to believe we deserve to be happy because it brings the most pleasure.”

“Yeah, but do we _deserve_ that pleasure?”

She sighs and looks up to the sky as if asking the moon for answers. He also looks up but the moon keeps still, ever the vigilant protector of the sun as it is reborn.

“Honestly, sir, I don’t think it matters. Life is short. It isn’t fair. And it _doesn’t care_ whether you’re happy or not. So be whatever that keeps you going and, more importantly, growing.”

He looks at her, eyebrows raised and maybe a little bit hopeful. “So, if an opportunity for happiness arises, you’d take it? Even if you might not deserve it?”

“Would it keep me going and growing, sir?” She challenges and meets his gaze.

“I…” _Would it?_ He thinks. He gulps what little spit he has. “I’d hope so.”

“Then, yes.”

Roy blinks a few times. He licks the front of his teeth and then settles on a smirk. “I didn’t think you thought of it that way, Captain.”

“It took me almost dying to be convinced, sir.” Roy feels a pang in his chest as he remembers her lying on a puddle of her own blood. She looks back to the flowers with pursed lips. “If our road to redemption ends in our deaths, then so be it. But I’d like to be happy when I go.” She fiddles with her right earring. It’s a nervous tic he thought she’s grown out of. “It’s selfish, I know.”

Roy’s smirk turns into a smile. Fondness wraps around him and it spills, “I’m glad.” He’s glad that this amazing and _kind_ woman who has already given so much is finally trying to take back. He desperately wants to give her everything, too.

He clutches the chain still in his hand tightly and decides _tonight_. He has to do _it_ tonight.

“Quick, Captain!” He exclaims. “Do you have a pencil?”

Hawkeye furrows her eyebrows at the sudden tangent but grabs one from her purse.

An almost-manic wheeze escapes his lips, “You really are ready for anything, are you? Hold it up for me for a second.”

She does as he commanded and he claps his hands once to transmute its wood to loosen up. Carefully, he pulls the graphite out.

“What am I to do with a hollow pencil, sir?” Hawkeye asks incredulously. She narrows her eyes, suspicious of what crazy idea he must have thought of now.

Roy ignores her and turns his back on her. He kneels on both knees and puts the graphite on the floor. “You’re going to ruin your clothes, sir,” she says but he doesn’t quite hear. He unclasps the chain from his watch and places it beside the graphite. He feels her come up over his shoulder and he blocks her view of what he’s trying to do.

He’s had a layout _for years_. He’s redesigned and recalculated over and over again even though he knew he could never do what he’s about to do. Now, _he can_ and he’s determined to see it through.

Roy knows by heart the alchemical symbol for platinum: a joined sun and moon. He knows the exact anomalies on the latticework of carbon atoms that can create the effect he wants.

With his mind’s eye, he sees his devised array. He claps. Blue sparks blind him for a moment and then, a ring is in place of the chain and graphite.

He picks it up and inspects it. It’s a simple band, about one centimeter in width. He’s careful enough to not put many depressions that can trap dirt and oil. The diamond in place is small but big enough to see the red in the middle. At certain angles, it looks like that there’s a flame encased within the stone.

It’s perfect.

“General?”

He startles and almost drops the ring. He props one knee up and pivots his entire body while anchored on another. At the end of the night, he’s sure that his pants would have a huge gaping hole and he would have one badly-scratched knee.

Roy must look pathetic because Hawkeye – _Riza_ – laughs freely and loudly. “What on earth are you doing?”

He keeps the ring in a closed fist and stares at the most beautiful woman he’s ever known. The moonlight shines on her hair, crowning her like the queen that she is.

“Rubedo,” he blurts out, unbidden. _Stupid_. _Stupid. Stupid._

She sobers up and becomes quiet. With wide eyes, she gapes at him. She must have realized the position they’re in. She frantically looks around to check for an audience. When she’s satisfied that they have none, the Captain glares at him.

“You really are an idiot, _sir_ ,” she admonishes, giving _too much_ stress on that last word. “Please stand up before anyone gets the wrong impression and have you court-martialed.”

It’s his turn to become confused. “What?”

“I may have told you that I would accept a chance at happiness, sir, but not at the expense of our dreams.”

Roy feels giddy at the thought that she sees what he’s doing as something that could give her happiness. But then the confusion comes back as the rest of her words finally sink in. “What?” He asks again. Then, he realizes, “Ah. I haven’t told you about the news.”

“What news, sir?” She asks with gritted teeth.

He rubs the back of his head, “Heh. Uhm. Well, you see…”

“Out with it.”

“Someone… proposed an amendment to Article 134, Section 24 of the UCMJ. Earlier. During the quarterly meeting. And… it was approved.”

Her mouth forms a silent _oh_. “You mean..?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Disbelief colors Riza’s voice. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She shakes her head and tears form in her eyes. She lets out a watery laugh. “Okay. And _okay_ to this,” she waves a hand between him and her, “as well.”

“You don’t even know what this,” he mimics her and waves a hand between them, “ _is_.”

She smirks at him, it’s small but very much noticeable. “You had me quiz you on the history of alchemy when we were younger for far too often, sir. I know what Rubedo means. And if I understand your—” she giggles, actually _giggles,_ “— _very cute_ allusion correctly, then I’m saying _yes._ ”

“It’s not cute. It’s _clever_.” She goes into another fit of giggles because clearly she’s gone mad. She puts her hands over her face as if to catch and contain them. He insists, and _definitely_ doesn’t pout, “It’s because you haven’t heard the whole speech.”

“I’m sorry,” she laughs a bit more before clearing her throat. “By all means, General, continue with your non-cute speech which hopefully isn’t just comprised of single-worded sentences,” she tries to say with a straight face but midway she cracks.

“You’re so mean, you know that?” He huffs and forgets that he should be offended. It’s hard to think about anything else besides a smiling Riza Hawkeye. God, he wants to keep that smile on her face forever.

Roy clears his throat and says, “ _Nigredo_.”

Riza bites her lower lip, most likely to keep herself from laughing. He gives her a dry look and waits for her to compose herself. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“ _Nigredo_ ,” he begins again. “I have had lost my way in the past, I’m ashamed to say. I have been consumed by some darkness – greed, grief, vengeance, to name a few. _Albedo_. But time and time again, I have my light guiding me back through the dark. I have my White Queen. I have you.”

All signs of mirth have left her face and all that remains is warmth and softness; that gentle feeling of coming home. His knee is starting to ache and the attached leg is numbing but he focuses on her and he forgets the pain. “You have made me a better man. _Loving you_ has made me better. I want to give something back. I want to love you well.”

He unfurls the fist holding the ring. “ _Rubedo_ is the only way I could think of; to be together for as long as you or the world lets us. The Red King surrenders to you, broken and purified. And he hopes that when he rises again, you would take pity on him and rule with him for he _can never_ do it without his queen.”

She smiles more widely and a sob slips her lips. The formed tears finally come down her cheeks. She gasps, “Yes.”

Roy grabs her left hand and slides the ring on her finger. He presses a long kiss on the knuckle above it. Riza nudges his head so he’s looking up. He revels in her feather-light caresses as they become lost in each other’s eyes. Then, she bends over and gives him a kiss on the lips.

A moment passes and it’s both too much and isn’t enough. She pulls away and straightens herself.

“I think we’re going to have to amputate my leg.” Because, of course, that’s how you follow-up a proposal. “It’s been deprived of oxygen for too long.”

She rolls her eyes and helps him up. He leans on her as he stomps his foot and wriggles his toes. He catches the exit of the garden in his periphery. “Wanna get out of here?” He mock-conspiratorially whispers.

Hawkeye pushes him off of her just as he gets the feeling of his leg back. He stumbles a bit and she grabs him by the lapels of his jacket to steady him. She smooths the wrinkles of his suit and rests her hands on his chest. “It’s rude to leave the Winter Ball early, sir. Especially when you’ve spent the better part of your stay away from the party.”

“Oh, it’s definitely the _better part_ ,” he says in a low voice. He brings his arms around her waist and rests his forehead against hers.

Riza lightly touches her lips against his. The unexpected action – because who expects Riza Hawkeye to kiss him on her own cue _twice_ in a matter of minutes? – catches him off-guard, allowing her to break away from his hold.

She looks over her shoulder once before going down the path that leads back inside the Führer’s mansion. He blinks and shakes his head. With a smile and a skip in his step, he follows her.

**Author's Note:**

> ┐('～`;)┌
> 
> Oh, and can I just share? I hc that Berthold has a massive collection of philo books. After all, most real-life alchemists are natural philosophers and FMA alchemy's first step is asking "What is stuff?" (a pretty big philo question). Consequently, I hc that Riza loved reading them as a kid and that teen!royai loves to talk about their existence and some shit under the stars like your typical YA romantic-drama novel protags LMAO.


End file.
